


Star Spangled Woman

by cyborgchickenbanana, Drag0n_Fire



Series: Captain Carter [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Army, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Captain America: The First Avenger, F/F, F/M, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Jewish Howard Stark, M/M, Nazis, Peggy Carter as Captain America, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Project Rebirth, Propaganda, Protective Bucky Barnes, The Tesseract (Marvel), World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyborgchickenbanana/pseuds/cyborgchickenbanana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0n_Fire/pseuds/Drag0n_Fire
Summary: Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American Way?Who vows to always fight for what’s right night and day?Who will campaign door-to-door for America,Carry the flag shore-to-shore for America,From Hoboken to Spokane,The Star Spangled Woman with a Plan!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peggy Carter, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter & Howard Stark, Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Howard Stark
Series: Captain Carter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675594
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “We’ve just been notified about a suspicious unidentified object that’s caused quite a commotion in the Arctic.”
> 
> “Yeah, so?”
> 
> “So, it’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s job to make sure it’s not a threat of some kind. I’m going to need you to check it out.”

_ Present Day, Somewhere in the Arctic _

A thick veil of snow blanketed the unforgiving terrain, hiding the lights from sight. The lights revealed themselves to be attached to a truck as they got closer. This truck, of which, was approached by a man holding a light of his own and waving his other arm in a frantic attempt to be seen.

The man’s attempts were not in vain. The truck stopped, apparently seeing his glowing red light and puffy coat-clad body. Two men in their own swelling coats hopped out of the truck and slammed their doors shut. The noise of this action, though, could hardly be heard over the screaming of the bitterly raw wind.

“Are you the guys from Washington?” the man called out as the other two approached.

One man-a technician-rolled his eyes for no one to see, “Ya get many  _ other _ visitors out here?”

His companion-a lieutenant-gave no chance for the rhetorical question to be answered, “How long have you been on sight?” Even as he yelled over the frosty blast, his voice was all business and held a great deal of authority.

The three of them began trudging through the arctic as the man with his promising red light took the lead. “Since this morning,” he replied. “A Russian oil team called it in about eighteen hours ago.”

“How come nobody spotted it before?” The lieutenant took on an interrogation style facade as small bits of ice that couldn’t even be considered snow flew in his face.

“Eh, it’s really not that surprising. This landscape’s changing  _ all _ the time, y’know!” the leader gestured to the white climate that had begun to shimmer in the light of the barely risen sun. “Got any idea what this thing is exactly?”

“I  _ don’t _ know,” the words sounded like they hurt to say. “It’s  _ probably _ a weather balloon,” the lieutenant’s voice wavered between dismissive and annoyed.

A light-hearted laugh escaped the leader, “Ah, I don’t think so. You know, we don’t have the equipment for a job like  _ this _ .” He continued using his red light attached to a pole as a walking stick.

The technician jumped back into the conversation, “How long before we can start cranin’ it out?”

“I don’t think you quite understand,” the leader kept his same upbeat tone. “You guys are gonna need one  _ hell _ of a crane!”

The trio approached the sight where other groups of researchers lumbered through the snow with their own red light pole and fluffy coats that could hardly be seen. The blue glow of a flashlight came from atop a looming structure of incomprehensible size that had only begun to break through the surface. What must’ve been the rest of the immensely large object submerged in frost was marked by dozens upon dozens of dim red lights.

The shorter man, the lieutenant, tugged his hood back to take in the bewildering sight, his slightly blue lips parting to release a noise that never came.

\---

Electric buzzing and whirring occurred as a bright blue light shown from the machine spinning in a perfect circle over and over and over and over again, cutting through the ice and metal. Other scientists milled around with heavy equipment and red lights on poles.

With a great crash, a circular block of thick ice fell ways down to reveal a large metal cavern. The sound resonated with a haunting echo.

Light streamed in a large, almost heavenly pillar as the technician and lieutenant were lowered in by rope, masks now added to their winter-themed uniform.

A thump echoed in the interior of the cavern as the lieutenant dropped down next to his companion, the technician. The technician, of course, was already shining his flashlight around, trying to understand what he was seeing.

“Base,” the shorter man spoke into his comm. “ _ We’re in _ .”

The only sounds after that were the sounds of the footsteps and breathing of the duo which echoed ominously in the darkness only lit up by two small flashlights.

The two observed the flooring, the stairs, and the skeletal metal structure of the area they were in. It was all coated in ice.

“What  _ is _ this?”

They ventured deeper into the cavern, nearing closer and closer to what seemed to be the cockpit. The structure may have been an airplane, but it was difficult to tell in the dark. Every noise made was deafeningly loud in the agonizing silence. Stepping in certain places would cause the structure to groan in an uncertain way. It didn’t look like the possibly-airplane cavern was going to collapse anytime soon, but the men still did their best to make their heavy steps more careful.

The technician, a good couple feet away from his comrade, stumbled, slipping on the slick ice-coated surface of the floor. Instinctively, the shorter man stuck his arm as if to catch him, even though he physically couldn’t. “ _ Careful _ .”

Continuing their meandering pace as they wandered through, the technician once again went ahead of the other man. His focus-and flashlight-moved from thing to thing rapidly. He surveyed everything around him, looking for any clue of what he was inside. Something caught his eye. Maybe the thing he was looking for, although he didn’t quite know what that was. It was a miscellaneous dark blob that he couldn’t quite make out. His feet carried him over and he scanned the large mass of what seemed to be snow-covered ice before crouching down childishly. After scrubbing the snow away with his glove, he tilted his head in a way reminiscent of a naive puppy.

“Lieutenant.” He looked over to his superior. “ _ Lieutenant _ !”

The lieutenant, who seemed much more distracted than usual, turned his awed attention from the eerily frozen metal walls to the spot on the floor his companion was pointing at.

The technician looked back at the other man. “What is it?” he asked, pointing once again.

His eyes widened impossibly large.

“ _ My God _ ,” the lieutenant gasped, an emotion filling his voice that he rarely let show. “Base, give me a line to the Colonel,” he demanded into his earpiece immediately. Something that he also didn’t do often.

A bleary voice responded, “It’s  _ three A.M. _ , sir.”

“I don’t  _ care _ what time it is!” the lieutenant snapped back.

The pattern on the disc was generic, yet surely purposeful. A glistening white star on top of a deep, saturated cerulean circle. Thick bands of bleeding cardinal and silvery white hidden by precipitation wrapped around the circle. Unearthly light bounced off the disc’s metallic surface through the dense ice in a harsh glare.

He released a sigh of absolute incomparable wonder that fogged up the front of his mask. 

“This one’s waited long enough.”

\---------

_ March 1942 Tønsberg, Norway _

His legs ached. They wailed and screamed for him to stop. 

The booming of thunder ordered him not to. His body cried as the warm orange light came closer in the sea of darkness.

The metal was cold to the touch. It burned his already numb hands. He swung the door open, his arm yelped with the force. The abrupt slam of the door behind him echoed, almost painfully, causing his ears to ring.

“De har kommet for det!” He panted coarsely, his shaky hands barred the door. 

The tower keeper hobbled down the stairs to him. “Det har de før.”

His shaky legs brought him to meet the tower keeper. He shook his head desperately and pointed behind him. “Ikke slik.”

The old man leaned forward, stone-faced, “La dem komme. De vil aldri finne det.” 

Rumbling.

The tower keeper looked up. 

Rumbling.

He looked up.

Rumbling.

Everything was shaking.

Rumbling.

Everything rattled.

Rumbling.

It stopped.

The 

Wall 

Fell

Right 

On 

Top

Of

Him.

The tower keeper blinked rapidly, arms up. A bucket burst through the dust, emitting a horrendous, deafening, whirring noise. It backed away, whirring more loudly. 

He rushed forward to the rubble. His veiny hands gripped a large stone. His arms trembled as he lifted it to reveal 

Jan, a sickening flow of crimson leaking from his temple. 

At 

least 

his 

eyes 

were 

Closed.

Men in black rushed in over the rubble. The leader led the men to the coffin in the center of the tower, not caring to step around the motionless body of Jan.

The tower keeper was pushed aside, landing against solid rock as the men marched in.

“Öffne es,” The leader ordered, nodding at the coffin. A lieutenant, by the looks of it. The tower keeper warily eyed the red patches on the shoulders of the men as they hurried to follow the order. In unison, they grabbed the lid, and pushed. The lieutenant watched with twitching eyes as it didn’t budge.

“Öffne es!” He yelled again, louder, with a wavering voice. He cast a glance towards the hole in the tower, “Schnell, bevor er…”

The lieutenant straightened up and turned. The rest of the men followed suit, hands leaving the coffin. The tower keeper followed their gaze from his place on the floor to a large, sturdy figure standing in the gaping hole in the tower. A shadow surrounded in blinding, unnatural, white lights. 

One of the men quickly scuttled away from the coffin to offer the figure a clear view as it began to descend the rubble. The soldiers stiffened with each step of its expensive shoes. The tower keeper’s chest rose and fell with each step. His hands curled against the stone floor that he was sprawled on.

The figure leisurely strolled closer to the coffin, revealing itself as a tall, well-built man. “Es hat lange gedauert, bis ich diesen Ort gefunden habe.” All eyes followed the man as he placed himself in front of the old man. He towered above him. His head was tilted to the side, wearing a void expression, “Sie sollten gelobt werden. Hilf ihm auf.”

The tower keeper was forcefully yanked to his feet.

“Ich denke, dass Sie ein Mann mit großer Vision sind,” the man casually reached forward and adjusted the tower keeper’s old coat, “Und auf diese Weise sind wir uns sehr ähnlich.”

“Ich bin nichts wie du,” the tower keeper shot back, shaking his head with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nein, natürlich,” he took a breath, and met the older man’s eyes. “Aber was andere als Aberglauben sehen, wissen Sie und ich,” he tilted his head the other way and squinted, “Wissenschaft zu sein.” 

“Was Sie suchen, ist nur eine Legende.”

“Warum sollte man sich dann so bemühen, es zu verbergen?” He cast a look around at the tower before meeting the tower keeper’s eyes again. He took his hat off and handed it to the lieutenant, then turned and walked closer to the coffin. He looked at it for a moment, rested his hands on it, and with one simple shove, moved the lid. It hit the floor loudly, revealing a skeleton clutching a cube-shaped jewel. He leaned over the skeleton and ripped away the cube, along with a few fingers.

He held it up, inspecting the pale blue treasure, “Der Tesseract war das Juwel von Odins Schatzkammer.” He turned to the tower keeper, holding up the jewel for him to see, meeting his eyes. He turned his hand and let his fingers go slack. It shattered against the dusty floor.

“Es ist nicht etwas, das man begräbt,” The man moved back to the tower keeper, moved until their faces were inches apart, “Aber ich denke es ist nah, ja?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked to the coffin and back to the old man.

The old man moved away, “Ich kann dir nicht helfen.”

“Nein.” The man glanced at where a wall once was in the tower. “Aber vielleicht kannst du deinem Dorf helfen. Sie müssen Freunde da draußen haben.” The tower keeper glanced over at the hole. “Vielleicht ein paar kleine Enkelkinder.” The tower keeper’s face pinched and twisted in pain and disbelief. “Ich brauche nicht, dass sie sterben.”

The tower keeper turned at the sound of machinery. A large, monstrous tank whirred terribly as it pointed its massive gun at the small village. He turned back to the man, looking almost beyond him.

The man turned behind him, following the older man’s gaze, at a grand mural of a tree. He sauntered towards it, “Yggdrasil. Baum der Welt.” His eyes traveled across the artistic details of the tree. “Hüter der Weisheit,” he narrowed his eyes at a snake curled in the roots of the tree, and tilted his head, “und des Schicksals auch.” He moved closer to the mural, squinting. He reached a gloved hand out, and stroked the snake. His hand hovered for a moment, before pressing his thumb into the eye.

There was a click, and part of the mural popped out of the wall. The man grabbed it with claw-like hands and slid it out. He tilted his head curiously and turned back to the tower keeper. 

The tower keeper watched, trembling, as the man opened the box. His face was flooded with unearthly blue light. He smiled, “Und der Führer gräbt in der Wüste nach Schmuckstücken.” He looked up from the light for a moment, “Sie haben das noch nie gesehen, oder?”

The tower keeper glared, “Es ist nicht für die Augen gewöhnlicher Männer.”

“Genau.” The man closed the box and looked up. He walked to the lieutenant and took his hat back, “Gib den Befehl, das Feuer zu eröffnen.”

“Jawohl!”

“Dummkopf!” The tower keeper cried. The man turned. “Sie können die Kraft, die Sie halten, nicht kontrollieren. Du wirst brennen!”

The man pulled out a gun.

“Ich habe schon.”

The tower keeper fell to the ground, joining Jan.

Johann Schmidt put his gun back and massaged his cheek bone. 

He turned and walked back to his sleek car, flicking the blood off his silver, tentacled skull pin with a black-gloved hand, so that it shone cruelly in the harsh white lights of the machinery.


	2. It's A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked over at the guy sitting next him over his newspaper. He was the only guy there still wearing all of his clothes.
> 
> What a chicken.
> 
> He looked back at his newspaper.
> 
> "Nazis Retake Zhitomir"
> 
> He supposed they were desperate for soldiers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's A Good Day by Peggy Lee
> 
> \---
> 
> We hope you enjoy this work, we've worked quite hard on it! We do take feedback of all kinds.

_ 1943, New York _

“O’Connel, Michael.” the doctor called out, disinterest saturating his thick-accented voice.

“ _ Boy _ , lotta guys gettin’ killed out there.” a man muttered, biting his lip as he studied the newspaper in hand with it’s bolded headline announcing “ _ Nazis Retake Zhitomir _ ”.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she pulled her own newspaper closer to her and hid her face deeper into it. The man wasn’t talking to  _ her _ . Good. He was talking to a brunet sitting next to him with  _ very _ pronounced abs. Not that she took the time to notice his muscles or anything.

It wasn’t her choice on whether or not she wanted to see all the men with their glistening biceps. Most of them were  _ much _ too flabby and arrogant to be anywhere  _ near _ desirable. They were all shirtless, though, nonetheless. Every last one of the men waiting in that room was stripped down to their boxers.

Well, all of them except  _ her _ . She wasn’t a man, though. But they  _ couldn’t _ , under absolutely  _ no _ amount of exceptions, know that, or her  _ whole _ plan would go to hell. Although, her plan wasn’t  _ quite _ working out in the first place. Everyone was side-eyeing her and her baggy polo shirt and high waisted, boxy pants held up by suspenders. 

Even so, she refused to give in to the judgemental stares and destroy her dignity by taking off so much as an  _ inch _ of  _ any _ of her garments around  _ any of them _ . Well, maybe the doctor, if her plan got that far.

“Kaminsky, Henry.” Another name was called out in a bored drawl.

“Kinda makes ya think twice about enlistin’, huh?” the brunet smirked at the other man who had begun to stand up.

“Carter, James.”

Peggy sucked in a breath and lifted herself to her feet, making sure to fold her newspaper neatly and set it back down.  _ Nope, _ she thought to herself as she went to the back of the line.

She waited. Earned herself a few more funny looks before getting to the front of the line.

“Carter,” the doctor muttered to himself, although his voice was much too loud to be capable of muttering. He flipped through the notes in the file he had set out, eyebrows furrowing. Then the doctor glanced up. Going against what Peggy believed to be possible, the doctor’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper, threatening to cover his eyes. His cracked lips twisted into a frown devoid of concern and full of suspicion.

Holding her breath, Peggy straightened her posture, put her shoulders back, and looked the doctor directly in his tired, tired eyes. She prayed-something she didn’t do that often anymore-that the bandages on her chest were tight enough. She hoped-something she did much too often-that all her hair wouldn’t fall out of the cap she had stuffed it in. She wished-something she admittedly did sparingly-that her lack of makeup was enough to make her face look more masculine.

Shaking his head, the doctor turned back to his file, “What’d ya father die of?”

“Mustard gas,” Peggy said a bit too quickly. Her plan was  _ actually _ working.

After straightening up and brushing off her shock, Peggy cleared her throat and deepened her voice to continue, “He was in the hundred and seventh infantry.” Leaning over to try and get a glimpse of the file the doctor was looking through, Peggy added, “ I was hoping I could be assigned-”

“Mother?” the doctor interrupted, clearly not impressed.

“She was a nurse in a TB ward. Got hit…” Peggy blinked away any bitterness that could spoil her progress, “couldn’t shake it.”

There was silence. Stiff silence. The silence of anticipation painfully throbbed in Peggy’s fast-beating heart.  _ So close. So close. So close _ . She didn’t take her eyes off the doctor. The doctor, who scanned the file, eyes raking every carefully typed word. There couldn’t be anything  _ wrong _ . Peggy swore she had done everything  _ right _ . There was  _ nothing _ wrong with the file.  _ So close. So close. So close _ .

“Sorry,  _ son _ .” The doctor put a sarcastic emphasis on the word  _ son _ . One of his eyebrows was finally raised, fighting the deep wrinkles in his forehead.

_ No _ . He  _ knew _ .  _ How _ did he know? How  _ long _ had he known? Had he been pulling Peggy’s leg the  _ whole time _ ?

“Look, just give me a  _ chance _ .” Peggy dropped her act with the deep voice and leaned forward, both hands on the desk.

“You’d be ineligible on your gender  _ alone _ .” His voice was still the same volume. Why did the doctor have to be so  _ loud _ ?

“ _ Please _ , is there  _ anything _ you can do?”

“’m doin’ it.” The doctor winked. “I’m savin’ yer life, honey.”

Peggy jumped as the doctor slammed his hand on the file with a heavy noise, stamping a large, rejective,  _ defeating _ black “4F”.

\---

“War  _ continues _ to  _ ravage _ Europe. But help is  _ on _ the  _ way _ ! Every able-bodied  _ young man _ is  _ lining up  _ to serve  _ his _ country! Even  _ little Timmy _ is doing  _ his _ part. Collecting  _ scrap _ metal. Nice  _ work _ ,  _ little Timmy _ !”

Peggy sat back in the theater chair, hands fisted in her lap and eyes trained on the screen. She chewed her lip as men marched in uniforms, and boys climbed around scraps of metal. Her muscles clenched in the faint light of the theater.

“Who  _ cares _ ?” Heads jerked in the direction of the loud interruption. Peggy narrowed her eyes at a man a row or two in front of her. “Play the  _ movie _ already!”

Peggy leaned forward and whispered as loudly as she dared, “ _ Show some respect _ .”

“Meanwhile,” Peggy’s eyes snapped back up to the achromatic screen, “ _ overseas _ , our  _ brave boys _ are showing the Axis powers that the price of  _ freedom _ is  _ never _ too high.”

Her eyes darted to a woman sitting not too far away from her, who bowed her head and closed her glistening eyes.

“Let’s  _ go _ ! Get  _ on with it _ !” More heads whipped towards the man this time. The woman’s shoulders started shaking. “Hey,  _ just start _ the  _ cartoon _ !” Tears dripped down her face.

“Hey!” Peggy raised her voice, “ _Shut_ _up_!” 

The man slowly rose from his seat, higher and higher. He was a dark blob blocking her view of the smoke drifting across the screen. 

“ _ Together _ with  _ Allied _ forces, we’ll face  _ any threat _ -” 

He turned to face Peggy, and straightened his back, standing at his full height. Shoulders back, chest puffed out, and head tilted up.

“-no  _ matter _ the size.”

Peggy straightened up in her seat and clenched her jaw.

\---

A burst of pain hit her jaw. 

Her head smacked a trash can on her way down.

She scrambled to her feet and shakily stood in front of the man once again. His fist hit her before she could straighten up, in the temple, causing the rest of her body to follow her head back into the trash cans with a painful clatter.

Her hands clawed against the cement wall and the wooden fence cornering her. She snatched a trash can lid on her way back up. She whirled around and held it up against the man, smirking to herself.

The man looked at her for a moment, and  _ ripped _ the lid out of her hands, throwing it onto the ground next to Peggy’s head.

Peggy pulled herself to her feet once again and fisted her hands. Another burst of red-hot pain. Her legs- _ the dirty little traitors _ -crumpled beneath her. 

She forced them to hold her once again. Panting, she rolled her shoulder and steadied herself. She glared up at her attacker. She licked her cracked lips.

He spread his hands casually and chuckled, “You just  _ don’t _ know when to  _ give up _ , do ya?”

Peggy mimicked the gesture, letting out a wheezy laugh, “I can do this all day.”

Her knuckles burned as they collided with his filthy mouth. He stumbled back, and Peggy took the moment to cradle her aching fist.

“Really snapped your cap, huh?” He snickered. He turned his head and spat out a glob of blood.

Peggy huffed and stretched her fingers, readying to throw another punch.

“So  _ now  _ you’re gonna be a cold fish.” He stepped closer, blood dripping off his chin. “Y’know, I don’t really like hittin’ dollies like you, but, uh,” he winked, “I’ve done worse.”

Peggy threw a fist at his face. She gasped in surprise as an iron hand caught it and threw her to the ground.

She lay there for a moment, chest heaving at an impossible speed. Her muscles ached. She tried to force herself up, but her body stubbornly refused. Her limbs trembled with the effort. She could hear the scuffing of feet as the man walked over to where she lay, towering above her.

“ _ Hey _ !” The man was yanked backwards. “Pick on  _ someone _ your  _ own _ size.” Another man stalked towards Peggy’s attacker, forcing him out of the alley. The attacker swung a fist at him, which the other man swiftly dodged. He swung a punch of his own, hitting the attacker square in the nose. He bent over, clutching his bloody face and panting. As he was bent over, the man kicked him in his rear end. He hit the ground with a gasp and quickly scrambled out of the alley.

The man turned back around and sauntered over to where Peggy was pulling herself up.

“We’re the same size,” Peggy hissed at him, putting a ginger hand to her jaw. 

He ignored her comment, “Sometimes, I think you  _ like _ getting punched.” Peggy glared into his eyes, which were hidden in a shadow cast by his tilted hat.

“I had ‘im on the ropes,” She brushed off her blouse and added, “He was a real fathead, too.” She peeled her chestnut hair off of her sweaty face.

The man looked down and sighed, bending down to pick up some papers of Peggy’s the man from the theater had thrown onto the ground. “How many times is this now?” He unfolded one of the papers and read out loud, “Department of Selective Service Certificate of Acceptance.” Peggy’s stomach dropped. “Ah, you’re from Paramus now?” The man nodded with a smirk. He looked up at her, “You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously?  _ James _ ?” He pointed the papers at her, “ _ Where’d ya get that _ ?”

Peggy ignored Bucky’s sarcasm. “You get your orders?” she asked, eyeing the uniform he was wearing. She bit her lip.

He tilted his head, smile fading from his face, “The one-o-seventh.” He looked away from Peggy and reluctantly sighed, “Sergeant  _ James Barnes _ , shipping out for  _ England _ first thing tomorrow.” His voice was dry with loathing and he looked back at Peggy.

Peggy avoided his eyes and shook her head, “ _ I _ should be goin’.” She brushed her hands together and finally met Bucky’s eyes, who somehow looked even more upset than her.

They looked at each other for a tense moment, before it was washed away by a bright smile from Bucky. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her in close, leading them out of the alley, “C’mon, Peg.”

“Buck.”

“My last night!” He peeled away his arm with a wrinkled nose, “Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where’re we goin’?”

Bucky tossed away Peggy’s form with a careless flick of his wrist and handed her a newspaper, the front page reading “ _ World Exposition of Tomorrow, 1943 _ ” in an over-the-top font with a picture of a large globe structure and dramatic fireworks behind it.

“The future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We used many sources when writing this, but even so, we apologize for any historical inaccuracies.


	3. Busy As A Bee (I'm Buzz, Buzz, Buzzin')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ready for dancin’ tonight?” Connie asked, twirling to show off her pink skirt.
> 
> “Yeah,” Bonnie smiled dreamily as she reached for her maroon cardigan. “Bucky said he’s gonna bring one of his pals along. I bet he’ll be really dynamite.”
> 
> It was a moment before she noticed her friend had stiffened and Bonnie looked back up, “What?”
> 
> “Oh, Bon,” Connie brushed a coco colored curl behind her ear. “Bucky said one of his gals, not one of his pals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy As A Bee (I'm Buzz, Buzz, Buzzin') by Benny Goodman & His Orchestra; Vocal by Helen Forrest; Fletcher Henderson
> 
> \---
> 
> While our update schedule is not concrete, we will try to maintain steady and often updates.

“Y’know, there’s a _difference_ between bein’ an _independent woman_ and a _spinster_ ,” Bucky shoved his hands in the pockets of his uniform as the duo walked.

“Is it the shoes?” Keeping a couple of steps ahead of her companion, Peggy raised her eyebrows at Bucky. He, an ever-so-wise man, didn’t answer her question. Peggy smirked, “You’re startin’ to sound like Colleen.”

“Smart gal,” Bucky nodded, “A real dish, too.”

Peggy shook her head, “You’re a knucklehead.” 

They just looked at each other, Peggy glaring and Bucky smirking. The corner of Peggy’s lips twitched and she looked away before her friend could see her give in to a smile. Bucky let out a dramatic sigh of exasperation.

“I don’t see what the _problem_ is,” Bucky complained as they pattered down a minuscule flight of stairs. “You’re about to live in a completely _man-free_ New York. That leaves three and a half million women here _all to yourself._ ”

The urge to roll her eyes was irresistible. “Yeah, well, _I’d_ settle for just _one_.”

As his stroll turned into more of swagger, Bucky’s face pinched into a bright smile. “Good thing _I_ took care of _that_.” He lifted his arm up high and started waving it around.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Peggy’s eyes widened, “ _What_ ? What d’ya mean?” No response. “Buck, _please_ tell me you didn’t go around tellin’ _everyone_ that I- ”

“Hey, Bucky!” a high pitched voice hollered back, emitting from a petite girl who waved back with just as much energy. She stood next to another girl, just as petite, although they almost looked like one with how close they were standing in the scarce amount of light coming from the expo.

“What’d you tell ‘er about me?” Bringing her hand to her hair, Peggy absent-mindedly began patting and poofing it to make sure all the stray strands found their places. If she had _known_ that she would be on an _actual_ date-a double date-she would’ve put more effort into her makeup. Not to say that her makeup wasn’t _already_ pristine and perfect-just that the makeup she used was cheap, seeing as it was the only kind she could afford. Maybe she would have worn her hair to be wavier and sleeker instead of in its usual big brunette curls. Her outfit-while it was as prim and proper as she could afford, maybe it wasn’t quite the outfit for dancing. What did girls like? Even though Peggy was a girl herself, she had a hard time answering her own question.

“Only the good stuff.”

In the end, it didn’t seem to matter what Bucky told anyone about Peggy. Her assigned date, a pretty blonde in dark red, took one look at her and promptly decided to ignore her for the rest of the night. Oh, but she was absolutely _infatuated_ with Bucky, as was the other girl.

The four of them-well, in reality, it was just Peggy trailing behind Bucky and the two giggling girls who had claimed him-navigated large blundering crowds illuminated by glowing signs as they toured the expo.

“Welcome to the _Modern Marvels Pavillion_ and the _World_ of _Tomorrow_ . A _greater_ world. A _better_ world,” a booming yet cheery voice announced over speakers.

Peggy rolled her eyes as the girls _and_ Bucky giggled, looking around in awe. She hadn’t bothered to learn their names if they weren’t going to learn _hers_.

The giggles were cut short and they all looked in the direction of thunderous clapping from afar. The brunette girl leaned into the blonde and started giggling again, “Oh my God! _It’s startin’_!”

Peggy’s date grabbed Bucky’s date’s hand, who grabbed Bucky’s hand, and they started running towards the sound of swing music, bubbling with giggles. Peggy sighed, shoved some popcorn she had snatched into her red lips, and slowly followed the trio, not worrying about keeping up. She doubted those girls ran a lot, _if at all_ , in heels, so they couldn’t get _too_ far without her.

Once they arrived at a brightly lit stage, Peggy stood behind the group, peeking in between their heads. Everyone looked up towards the light with puppy eyes and clapped like toddlers. Well, everyone except Peggy who just frowned and Bucky, who looked like he was going to explode from excitement, but kept his fidgety hands shoved in their pockets.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a woman with a top hat, a tuxedo corset-mock combo top, and a dangerously short skirt announced. “Mister _Howard_ _Stark_!”

A man in his own tuxedo and top hat swaggered on out to the stage as various other women, with identical outfits and beautiful legs to match (not that Peggy noticed), pointed towards the man with gracious showman-style waves of their arms.

“ _I love you, Howard_!” a woman in the crowd screamed hysterically. It made Peggy want to hurl. She instead tossed more popcorn into her mouth.

The man, Howard, sauntered over to the microphone, where he handed the announcer his hat, and then pulled her in an over-the-top way to kiss her passionately for a moment too long. They smiled deviously at each other like a way of telling each other they had unfinished business. The women strutted behind the shiny hot-rod red car on stage as Howard dabbed crimson lipstick off his mouth with a handkerchief. Peggy successfully kept her popcorn down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what if I told _you_ that in just a _few short years_ ,” as Howard declared whatever he needed to sell, Peggy offered some of her popcorn to her date. Maybe she would like her if she was offered food? That’s how it worked after Peggy and Bucky got into arguments. The blonde glanced at the red-nailed hand offering her popcorn and wrinkled her nose and glared, flipping her hair as she turned her face away and moved closer to the brunette. “ _Your automobile_ won’t even have to touch the ground _at all_ .” _Fine_ , Peggy thought, cramming a large handful of popcorn into her mouth, _more for me_.

The women came back around to lift the tires away from the expensive-looking car.

“Yes,” Howard moved his microphone stand out of the way. “Thanks, Mandy,” he muttered, almost breathlessly. “With Stark _robotic reversion technology_ , you’ll be able to do _just that._ ”

With the flick of a switch and the pull of a lever, before everyone’s eyes, the car slowly started floating. It gradually went higher and higher, the places where tires used to be began glowing. The movement was so smooth yet so unnatural. Even Peggy’s eyes had widened.

“ _Holy_ _cow_ ,” Bucky whispered, completely dumbfounded.

Smirking, Howard waved his arm towards his invention, as the car hovered in place, still whirring and glowing victoriously. The whirring stuttered for a brief moment, and the car dropped with a _smash_ , glowing and sparking. The crowd gasped and Howard flinched away from it, arms shielding his face. Smoke rolled away from the car and the sound of electric buzzing filled the air. Peggy leaned away mid-chew, along with everyone else as the crowd recovered and Bucky’s date giggled playfully as though the failure was just _so_ entertaining. Bucky looked back at Peggy with a childish grin. Peggy snorted, and Bucky turned back to the stage, rocking on his heels.

“I _did say_ a few years, didn’t I?” Howard recovered, smiling once again. The crowd began clapping enthusiastically, awestruck by the collapse. Howard looked out at the crowd of clapping hands and let out a few nervous chuckles.

Peggy looked around the audience, astounded by how easy they were to entertain. She then turned all the way around and was faced with a poster behind all the people. It was lit by a single light and seemed to call out to her. “ _I Want_ _You_ ” was in large blue letters along with a picture of Uncle Sam pointing. It felt as though his pudgy hands were accusing her. She chewed her lip. The words “ _U.S. Army-Enlist Now_ ” ridiculed her and sent prickles of pain into her bruised knuckles. The American flags on either side stood still, patiently waiting for what Peggy was about to do.

“Hey, Peg, what do you say we treat these girls...” Bucky turned around with the same smile on his face as Peggy ducked behind a tall man. She could feel his disappointment and confusion dozens of feet away as she slipped away from the event she didn’t even want to go to to _begin_ with.

\---

A man stepped up to a platform and smiled as his face was reflected in a cut out of a soldier giving a perfect salute. He grinned broadly. The words _“Enlist Now!_ ” went across the cutout’s feet. He looked like another one of the army men.

“Come on, _soldier_ ,” a girl took him by the arm and laughed. They walked away, being swallowed by a milling crowd of people.

Peggy stepped out of the shadows she had been hiding in, a click rung as she took her place on the platform. She felt utterly stupid when she looked at the mirror in the cutout. Her face fit perfectly, but the body didn’t match. It probably never would. She chewed on her lip and glared at the mirror.

“Come on, _soldier_ ,” Bucky shoved Peggy from behind playfully. “You’re kind of missing the _point_ of a double date. We’re takin’ the girls dancin’.”

Peggy followed Bucky as they began to walk down the hall of the enlistment center. Then she stopped. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with ya.”

Bucky turned and waited for a moment, nodding his head. “You’re really gonna do this again?” His tone was darker, slow with dread.

Peggy looked down and grabbed the folds of her skirt with fisted hands. “Well, it’s a fair, I gotta try my luck.”

“As who?” Bucky asked, shaking his head. “ _James_ from _Ohio_ ? They’ll catch you-or _worse_ , they’ll actually _take_ you.”

Frowning, Peggy planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t think I can do thi-”

“This isn’t a _back alley_ , Peg. It’s a _war_!”

“I _know_ it’s a war! You don’t gotta tell me-”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are _so_ many important jobs-”

“What’m I gonna do? Sit at home with my sewing kit-”

“ _Yes_!”

“-stitching up uniforms?”

“ _Why not_?”

“You know _damn_ well why _not_ ! I’m not gonna _sit around_ at home, _Bucky_!”

“I don’t-”

“ _Bucky_! Come on!” Peggy’s volume had risen quite a bit, along with Bucky’s. She brought it down. “There are men _laying down their lives_. I got _no_ _right_ to do _any_ _less_ than them. _That’s_ what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“ _Right_ ,” Bucky nodded darkly, “‘Cause you got _nothin’_ to prove.” He glowered at her from under the dark shadow cast across his face by his hat. She stared back, jaw clenched.

“Hey, _Sarge_! Are we goin’ dancing?” a familiar high pitched voice hollered with a tinge of annoyance, causing Peggy and Bucky to turn away from their argument to face it.

“ _Yes we are_!” Bucky’s voice melted back into smooth butter before he turned back to face Peggy. He shook his head again. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” He took a few steps backwards towards where their dates were waiting.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with _you_.”

Bucky surged back towards her, “You’re a jerk.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a sturdy embrace. He playfully shook her.

“Punk.” Usually, Bucky would protest to the teasing nickname, claiming he was more of a “wolf”. He didn’t this time. “Be careful.” Peggy patted his back a couple of times and for a moment, it felt like they were scruffy little kids again about to go explore another back street.

They slowly pulled away from each other, and Peggy watched Bucky walk over to their dates. She was rooted to the ground, stiffly observing as they laughed and beckoned Bucky to walk faster. Those girls probably didn’t care that this was Bucky’s last night. They would wake up tomorrow completely unaffected. They would find some _other_ guy, not yet scooped up by the government, and _giggle_ and _fawn over_ and _dance_ with him until _he_ was gone, too. 

They weren’t losing another brother.

“Don’t win the war ‘til I get there!” She yelled at his retreating form. For a second she feared he hadn’t heard her. He halted, and turned on his heel back to her. 

“Yes, ma’am!” He smirked and mockingly saluted to her, then turned and resumed his path even more quickly this time.

“Come on, _girls_. They’re playing our song.”

The feeling of eyes on the back of her head made Peggy’s neck tingle. She whipped around, scanning the room but no one looked suspicious. Maybe she was just paranoid.


	4. Pennies From Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He watched from the shadows, interest caught.
> 
> They continued yelling, not noticing his curious eyes. The woman quieted down after a few people walking by turned their heads towards the shouting.
> 
> The determination and soul was hard to grow in the way she stood with her back straightened, hands on her hips. Yes, she would be a perfect candidate.
> 
> He had walked away when she finally noticed someone watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pennies From Heaven by Frank Sinatra, Count Basie
> 
> \---
> 
> After writing the first three chapters in such a short amount of time, we have consequently gotten a tad burnt out. We will be taking things a little bit slower. Not to worry, updates will still remain to at LEAST one per week, but most likely more.

Peggy, as most people knew, didn’t care for obeying orders. Going against Bucky’s warnings, she sat in a medical examination room fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. Her plan had gone much farther than the last. She was, after all, a quick learner.

The doctor, much younger than the one Peggy met last time she had tried to enlist, had his back turned as he fiddled with medical supplies.  _ So close. So close. So close. _

A nurse donning an all-white dress uniform with a pretty round face stepped in, heels clacking against the floor loudly. She placed an arm on the doctor’s shoulder and leaned in, whispering something Peggy’s ears couldn’t pick up. The doctor stopped his fiddling and nodded. They both turned back to Peggy for a very brief second. She tried to meet their eyes, but they quickly turned away.

The nurse made her way swiftly out of the room as the doctor began putting things away. “Wait here,” he didn’t turn back to Peggy as he muttered it.

“Is there a problem?” Peggy raised her voice just above normal speaking level, apprehension leaking into her voice. She squinted at the doctor.  _ So close.  _

“Just wait here.” The doctor insisted again, looked at Peggy with the power of stare but as quickly as a glance before tugging the curtains close as he walked out. He was much too soft-spoken to be a doctor, Peggy decided.

As soon as he had left, Peggy turned around on the observation bed to the sign on the wall behind her. “ _ It is illegal to falsify your enlistment form _ ” it read in black, blocky letters, that seemed to laugh at her. She quickly turned back around and stared at her hands. Had they found out? Was this it?

“ _ They’ll catch you- _ ”

“ _ You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form _ .”

She clenched her hands. Her nails bit into her skin. Most of the red polish had already chipped off of them, thanks to her scratching at them furiously.

She could already imagine the disappointment Bucky would express when he found his best friend in a jail cell. If her mother wasn’t already deceased she would probably have screeched in horror at what her daughter had done.  _ “You’ll be the death of me, Peggy Carter! Go on, have a laugh, but one these days you’re gonna have to start behavin’ like a lady! _ ” Her father would have disowned her. Her broth-

Peggy blinked a few more times than necessary. This was no time to think about her family. Besides, it didn’t matter much what any of those people thought of her. None of them would be able to visit her cell, anyways.

Pushing herself off the examination table, Peggy grabbed the shoes she had stolen from Bucky and began lacing them back up. Maybe she could make a run for it. Maybe try again somewhere else.

She had just barely pulled on the second shoe when she heard the sound of the curtain being moved again. Her head snapped up. 

A large soldier stood in the entrance of the examination room. She eyed the gun at his side, adrenaline buzzing in her fast-pumping heart. The tall man stared at her intensely with dark eyes. Her eyes slowly moved from his gun to his void expression. She clenched her jaw and stared back at him, not moving a muscle. 

The curtain slid open even more, revealing a shorter man with tired eyes framed in silver, round, wire-frame glasses. “Thank you,” he nodded dismissively to the soldier. Peggy’s eyes widened as the soldier backed out of the room quickly and closed the curtain behind the scruffy old man. “So you vant to go overseas,” he flipped open a file in his hands. “Kill some Nazis.” 

“‘Scuse me?” Peggy raised one of her eyebrows, not yet letting the tension drip away from her body, and keeping her voice an octave lower.

He snapped the file closed and walked over to where Peggy sat. “Doctor Abraham Erskine.” He held out a hand, “I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” Peggy immediately stood up and shook his hand firmly, turning over his strangely accented words in her head.

“Michael Carter.” Saying the name of her older brother tasted as bittersweet as the pastries that had been served at his funeral.

The doctor nodded almost tiredly, and walked over to a table and tossed the file in his hand onto it. He reached up a hand to adjust his glasses before opening one of the other files that lay on the table. Peggy’s eyes carefully followed his movements, although he didn’t seem to notice.

“If I may ask, sir, where’re you from?”

“Queens. Seventy-Third Street Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” That explained the accent. Doctor Erksine paused and looked up at Peggy and tilted his head. “This troubles you?”

“No, sir,” Peggy quickly answered. Too quickly. Dr. Erskine looked down at the file he had been thumbing through.

“Vere are  _ you _ from,  _ Mister Michael _ Carter? If that  _ is _ your name?  _ Mmm _ ? Is it  _ New Haven _ ?” the Doctor touched the words with his finger as he read them, before flipping the page. “Or  _ Paramus _ ?” Peggy’s stomach dropped and her heart began to pound more quickly. “ _ Five _ exams in  _ five _ different citie-”

“That might not be the right file-” Peggy interjected hurriedly, forgetting to lower the pitch of her voice.

“ _ No _ , it’s not the  _ exams _ I’m interested in. It’s the five  _ tries _ ,” Doctor Erksine closed the file before making his way over to stand in front of Peggy. “But you didn’t answer my question.  _ Do you vant to kill Nazis _ ? _ ” _

Peggy glanced over at the sign on the wall and looked back at the doctor, studying his face, “Is this a test?”

After staring at Peggy for a drawn-out moment, the Doctor blinked slowly and nodded like the answer was obvious. “ _ Yes _ .”

Chewing her lip, Peggy battled with her thoughts to find a response. “I don’t wanna kill  _ anyone _ , sir.” She took a breath. “I simply don’t like bullies. I don’t care  _ where _ they’re from.”

Barely smiling, the doctor nodded. “Well, there are already so many big  _ men _ fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is a big  _ woman _ , huh?” He let the words settle in Peggy’s ears. “I can offer you a chance.”

“A chance?” Peggy echoed.

He turned around abruptly and pulled the curtain open, beginning to walk out. “ _ Only _ a chance.”

“ _ I’ll take it _ .” Peggy quickly followed the doctor out of the examination room, haphazardly lacing her other shoe as she went.

“Good. So vere is  _ Mister Michael _ from, actually?”

“My name is Peggy Carter.”

Dr. Erskine threw a glance back at her, “Short for Margaret?”

She nodded.

“I’m from Brooklyn.”

The file Doctor Erksine held was stamped and briskly handed to Peggy.

“Congratulations,  _ soldier _ .”

Peggy opened the file to reveal a large, black “ _ 1A _ ” that beamed up at her as she stood, sighing with relief.

\-----------

_ Somewhere in a very mountainous region _

Johann Schmidt’s footsteps were loud and crisp as he walked across the lab, “Sind Sie bereit, Doktor Zola?”

It took a moment for Doctor Arnim Zola to break from his deep concentration to respond, “Mein Gerät erfordert die schwierigste Kalibrierung.” He pushed up his round, wire-frame glasses with a smile, “Vergib mir, wenn ich übervorsichtig bin.”

Schmidt pointed at him with some papers in his hand, “Und sind Sie sicher,” he looked back down at the papers in his hand, photographs of Ancient Norse murals, “dass Ihre Leiter dem Energieschub lange genug für eine Übertragung standhalten können?”

“Mit diesem Artefakt bin ich mir nichts sicher.” Dr. Zola scuttled over to Schmidt, “Ich fürchte, es könnte überhaupt nicht funktionieren.”

Schmidt picked up a box with gloved hands, and gently placed it in front of the doctor. Dr. Zola leaned towards it curiously, nudging his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Schmidt slowly opened the box. It emitted a soft  _ hiss _ and his face was bathed in an unearthly blue light. The corner of his mouth perked up into an almost-smirk. Dr. Zola hurriedly backed away a few steps and ripped off his glasses, trading them for a pair of dark safety goggles.

Dr. Zola looked up at Schmidt, who was lowering a glass capsule into the box. He fidgeted with his goggles, adjusting them against his face. He dropped his hands suddenly when Schimdt pulled the capsule out, revealing a blinding splotch of blue-white. Even under the tinted glass of his goggles, he squinted. Schmidt held the capsule away from himself as he carried it over to a machine. He slid it into a hole for the capsule, and turned it to lock it in. Dr. Zola blinked a few times, adjusting to the absence of most of the blue light, before rushing over to the controls.

Schmidt stared at the machine determinedly as Dr. Zola turned on the machine.

“Zwanzig Prozent.”

The machine began to glow brighter, and Schmidt leaned closer to it.

“Vierzig.”

He massaged his cheek bone, ignoring Dr. Zola’s frown.

“Sechzig.”

The machine hissed and buzzed as it emitted more and more light.

“Stabilisierung bei siebzig Prozent.”

Schmidt’s head snapped towards Zola, and he quickly stalked towards him. He shouldered the doctor out of the way and placed both hands on the controls.

“Ich bin aus Sicherheitsgründen nicht den ganzen Weg gekommen, Doktor,” he growled, turning one of the knobs as far as it would go. 

The machine began humming even more loudly, vibrating violently. Blue electricity crackled down the thick cords hooked to the machine. The machine let out shrill shrieks, and the room was flooded with blue light. Blue sparked and crackled around the room. It traveled from machine to machine, before it finally traveled to the contraption designed to hold the energy. The controls exploded, and the last of the blue sparks died out.

Schmidt looked around the room in a daze of awe.

Dr. Zola stared at him and moved in front of him, “Was war das?”

“Ich muss dir gratulieren, Arnim,” Schmidt looked behind Zola and slowly pointed. He grabbed the shorter man’s shoulders and turned him around to see what he was pointing at. A box filled with a glowing, blue substance. “Ihre Designs enttäuschen nicht.” Dr. Zola slowly moved closer to it, mouth agape. “Sie können jedoch eine leichte Verstärkung erfordern,” Schmidt looked around the lab, stopping at the ruined controls for a moment before turning back to Dr. Zola.

“Der Austausch ist stabil,” Dr. Zola’s eyes swept across the machine, “Tolle! Die Energie, die wir gerade gesammelt haben, können mein Design, alle mein Designs, antreiben.”

He ripped off his goggles.

“Dies wird den Krieg verändern.”

Schmidt moved closer behind Dr. Zola.

“Doktor Zola, das wird die Welt verändern.”


	5. Pistol Packin' Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilmore allowed his breathing to slow down as he noticed the rest of the soldiers resuming training.
> 
> His sweaty hands gripped the car, and he sluggishly pulled himself up, just enough to see the grenade.
> 
> He was flabbergasted when he couldn’t see the grenade, only Carter curled up on the dirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pistol Packin' Mama by Bing Crosby, The Andrew Sister, Vic Schoen and His Orchestra
> 
> \---
> 
> We apologize for the wait with this chapter. We've been a tad busy. We still do not have an updating schedule, but we're trying to find a comfortable pace. We hope you enjoy this!

_Camp Lehigh_

“Ready, exercise!” an officer yelled off in the distance at a different group of soldiers. A group of soldiers Peggy couldn’t care less about. It hadn’t been long, but she’d already gotten used to the excess amount of yelling.

“Hey,” nagged one of the men- _soldiers_ -standing in the same line of green uniforms as Peggy, his voice a bit too loud to be talking to anyone standing right next to him. “ _Hey_ , I’m talkin’ to _you_ , honey.”

One of the soldiers standing directly next to her elbowed Peggy in the side, “He means _you_.”

Clenching her jaw, Peggy continued looking straight forward. As one may have guessed, she wasn’t in the mood for playing games. _Especially_ not the games her comrades had in store for her.

“Why’re they letting you wear pants? Doesn’t really seem very _ladylike_ , does it now?”

Peggy chewed her lip, her hands involuntarily clenching into fists. She had already gotten so far and she couldn’t spoil her progress with inappropriate behavior. Even if punching every last one of that soldier's crooked teeth in seemed perfectly appropriate for Peggy.

“So you’re gonna be a cold fish? That’s fine. Don’t need a voice when you got a face like _yours_ ,” out of the corner of Peggy’s eye she could see the large, bulky, soldier leaning forward with a dumb smirk on his face. “Say, uh, why aren’t you inside? You could chip a nail out here, y’know. Could make better use of you filing paperwork or whatnot.”

Peggy whipped her head around, causing a few of the soldiers to flinch. She smiled and tilted her head, “Well, I’m sure you’re _just_ as capable of handlin’ the paperwork as well. It _is_ just the _ABCs_ , after all.” She leaned forward so she could see man better. “But, if you’re havin’ trouble, I _s’ppose_ I could teach you. We can begin with words startin’ with the letter _A_.”

The other soldier opened his mouth, no doubt ready to whip another nasty comment in Peggy’s face but fortunately, he was cut off.

“Recruits, _attention_ !” Peggy’s head whipped in the direction of the accented voice. “Gentlemen, I’m Agent Steve Rogers.” A small boy in a uniform walked over to the line of soldiers, with a man trailing behind him who carried a box overflowing with clipboards. “I supervise _all_ operations for this division.”

The boy walked along the line, handing each soldier a clipboard. As he got closer, Peggy realized that he was _not_ a boy, but just a very _short_ , very _skinny_ , very _scrawny_ , very _small_ , very _starved-looking_ man. She supposed his voice _was_ unusually deep for him to be a child.

“What’s with the accent, _Queen Victoria_ ?” the man that had been bothering Peggy earlier jeered at the not-boy. Rogers stopped in his path. “I thought I was signin’ up for the _U_ . _S_. Army.” He slowly turned to face the soldier.

Rogers peered up at him with a scowl, “What’s your name, soldier?”

He squinted back down with a smirk, “Gilmore Hodge, _your majesty_.”

“Step forward, _Hodge_ ,” Rogers ordered, British accent thick as ever and eye twitching.

Hodge licked his lips and glanced at the man standing next to him, who quickly turned away from his gaze. He grinned and leisurely took a few large steps forward, so that he was standing only a foot or so away from Rogers.

The shorter man tilted his head back even more to meet Hodge’s eyes. Peggy could hear one of the soldiers standing near her snort. “Put your right foot forward,” Agent Rogers spat through gritted teeth.

Hodge leered down at him and slid his right foot closer to Rogers, “We gonna _wrassle_ ?” He leaned down with a smirk, “‘Cause I got a few moves I _think_ you’ll like.” He winked. “Y’know, if _that’s_ what you’re into.”

Peggy and the rest of the soldiers jumped as Rogers’ fist collided with Hodge’s face. He lurched backwards, blindly reaching for his face. He stumbled into one of the soldiers in line, who quickly moved out of his way. Hodge tripped on his retreating foot and fell onto the ground with an “oomph”. 

Peggy and the rest of the soldiers continued to stare at Hodge, who sat on his rear silently, blinking in surprise. Peggy smirked and turned back to Rogers clutching his hand, looking almost just as surprised as everyone else.

“Agent Rogers.”

Agent Rogers straightened up and turned to an older man walking towards them, “Colonel Phillips.” His small body snapped into a precise and practiced salute.

“I can see you are breaking in the candidates. That’s good!” Rogers spun around to join Phillips in observing Hodge, who was still lying in the dirt. “Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in line at attention ‘til somebody comes tells you what to do.”

The other soldiers quickly moved to give Hodge space as he pulled himself to his feet at Phillips’ command. “Yes, sir.”

Phillips took a few steps back and addressed the entire row of soldiers, “General Patton has said that wars are _fought_ with weapons but are _won_ by _men_ . We are going to _win_ because we have the best _men_ …” He trailed off when his eyes landed on Peggy, who straightened her back as much as she could and looked directly in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the colonel’s frowning, causing the wrinkles on his face to increase tenfold. He looked away from her and resumed his speech, “The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an _Allied effort_ made up of the _best_ minds in the world. Our goal is to create the _best_ army in history. But that army starts with one _man_ .” Peggy clenched her jaw, trying to ignore the eyes she felt on her. “At the end of this week, we will choose that _man_ . _He_ will be the first in a new _breed_ of _super-soldiers_ .” Peggy could feel the man beside her shift from foot to foot. “And they will _personally_ escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of _Hell_.”

\---

“Pick up the pace, _ladies_ ! Let’s _go_ ! Let’s _go_! Double time!” Sergeant Duffy-the man currently in charge of Peggy’s squadron-screamed at the group jogging soldiers. Hodge, being quite the suck-up, smirked at Peggy as he passed her, going even faster than Peggy had deemed him possible of. Now, he was leading the pack of sweating uniform-clad bodies instead of Peggy.

Her nostrils flared and she clenched her jaw, trying to convince her burning legs to go faster.

The group was led around a curve of the heavily trodden path, nearing a truck where Rogers with a pencil in his mouth and another soldier sat, observing. “Come on! Faster! _Faster_ ! Move! _Move_!” 

“Squad, _halt_ !” Duffy commanded. All the other soldiers stopped and gasped in air. Peggy began fixing her bun that had begun to fall out. “That flag,” Duffy pointed, “means we’re only at the halfway point. First man to bring it to me gets a ride back with Agent Rogers.” The men stared up at the wavering green flag sporting the name of the camp with widened eyes. Peggy chewed her lip and glanced back at the truck. “ _Move, move!_ ”

All the men swarmed the pole, yelling and shoving each other out of the way. They clawed and jumped at the pole, but their efforts were ultimately fruitless seeing as they simply slid back down. 

“Come on! _Get up there_!”

Peggy observed as they clustered and scrambled up the pole uselessly like trapped rats. Much like the rats she would unfortunately oftentimes find herself in the company of after an alley fight. Not that anyone seemed to notice or care, but Peggy hung back and watched.

“If that’s all you got, this army’s in _trouble_ !” The men had finally stopped trying to push each other away but had instead started to climb over them in hopes of being the one to get the flag. “Get up there, _Hodge_ !” At the sound of that name the rest of the soldiers cleared away from the flagpole, leaving only Hodge scooting up the white pole. “Come _on_ !” They all stood and watched as he silently struggled. He miraculously made his halfway up the pole before sliding right back down again. “Get up there!” The other soldiers dropped their short vow of silence and began yelling and stomping on top of Hodge to attempt to get the flag. “Nobody’s got that flag in _seventeen years_ ! Now fall back in line!” Duffy went ignored. “ _Come on,_ fall in! Get back in formation!” 

Peggy paused a moment, contemplating the sergeant’s demands. She then began walking forward and gave the pole a once-over.

_“Carter_ !” Duffy’s voice was shrill. “I said _fall in_!”

Peggy unscrewed the bolt holding the pole to its stand, and pulled the pin with little force. The pole groaned before crashing to the ground with a great rattling. She threw the pin aside and slowly made her way to the end of the pole. Peggy glanced up quickly, long enough to see Rogers smile and lick his lips. After unclipping the flag, Peggy snatched it in a brisk motion and bundled it up in her hands.

Despite the sweat dripping down Peggy’s agonized muscles, she managed to hold her head high as she handed the green flag to a befuddled Sergeant Duffy. “Thank you, sir.”

The other soldiers murmured amongst themselves as Peggy heaved herself into the back of the truck. She smiled at Rogers who had been watching her with a large, dopey grin. He brushed his dirty blond hair to the side and turned away. She was pretty sure she spotted a sketchbook in his lap.

\---

“ _Faster_ , soldiers! Come on!” Agent Rogers ordered, standing above the soldiers (for once) as they did push-ups in the blazing heat. “My _grandmother_ has more life in her, _God rest her soul_. Move it!”

Peggy blew a few rebellious strands of hair out of her face as she tried to maintain a steady rhythm. She wasn’t wearing the standard uniform at that moment-nor was the rest of her squadron. They were simply in army green cargo pants and white t-shirts.

She moved her gaze from the dusty ground to Hodge beside her. He met her eyes and started moving faster. She bit her lip and growled deep in her throat, before speeding up her push-ups as well. Hodge scowled at her, sweat dripping down his nose, and began moving more vigorously. Peggy’s eyes didn’t leave his as she slowly lifted up one of her arms and put it behind her back. She proceeded to do one-arm-push-ups, much to Hodge’s astonishment. The corner of Peggy’s mouth curled into a faint smirk, and she looked up at Rogers. He paced back and forth in front of the soldiers, but seemed oblivious to her and Hodge’s silent competition. 

He was eyeing an approaching Doctor Erksine and Colonel Phillips. Rogers turned back to the troop. “ _Up_.”

With a quiet grunt, Peggy hauled herself up off the ground with the rest of the soldiers.

The two men seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation-one Peggy couldn’t hear over Rogers yelling, “Jumping jacks! Now!” 

In response to the groaning of the soldiers around Peggy, Rogers rolled his baby blue eyes, “Come on, boys!”

Slowly, the sound of jumping jacks and flailing dog tags filled the air, muffling the conversation between Dr. Erskine and Phillips. Peggy closed her eyes, letting her body fall into a rhythm, and blocked out Hodge squinting at her and Rogers’ pacing.

She could hear snippets of the conversation between the doctor and the colonel if she focused. She did, her curiosity winning the best of her.

“-looking for qualities _beyond_ ze physical.”

“-how long it took to set up this project-”

“-es, I know-”

“-groveling I had to do in front of Senator What’s-His-Name’s-”

“ _Brandt_.”

“-es, I know. I am vell aware of your efforts.”

“Then throw me a bone. Hodge,” Peggy furrowed her eyebrows and tried to focus harder, “passed _every_ test we gave him. He’s _big_ , he’s _fast_ , he _obeys orders_ . He’s a _soldier_.”

“He’s a _bully_.”

Peggy felt something lightly slap her moving arm, and her eyes snapped open and swiveled to look at Hodge, looking the other way. She huffed and turned back to Erskine and Phillips before she felt it again. She caught Hodge pull his hand away out of the corner of her eye. She turned back to him with a glare-

“ _GRENADE_!”

Men ran around her in blurs of emotion, emitting screams and yells that made her ears ring. 

She was jostled violently, and her mind struggled to keep up. 

The ringing in her ears was deafening. 

Her eyes landed on a small, round object. 

She stumbled forward with buzzing limbs and threw herself onto the ground. 

She landed harshly. 

She instinctively curled up, covering up the grenade with as much of her body as possible.

The scream tore her throat. “Get _away_!” 

She looked up and vaguely registered Agent Rogers standing above her. “ _Get back!_ ” 

She curled up more.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Panic burned her lungs and trembled in her limbs. 

All of her muscles clenched.

She braced herself.

The ringing in her ears faded into a background hum and she slowly uncurled her body. She put a hand to her heaving chest, slowly getting up. Her dark eyes swept around where she sat. Everyone was getting back up. Her gaze shot down to the grenade by her leg.

“It was a dummy grenade,” an officer from a different squadron grumbled. “All clear. Back in formation.”

Peggy’s eyes darted over to Rogers who sighed a little and smiled at her. Rogers offered a slender hand to her, which she mutely took. He helped her up with a grunt. She wobbled a bit, adrenaline leaving her as quickly as it had come. Then she looked at Dr. Erskine and Phillips, eyebrows scrunching.

“Is this a test, sir?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We would love to know what you think of this work so far!


	6. Someone To Watch Over Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back down at the palette in his hand, he dipped his paintbrush back into the carnelian red, the artist’s hand shaking all the while. He tried to breathe deeply, but not too deeply. The artist couldn’t dare disturb his subject. All he had to do was paint a picture. A good picture. The artist laid a gentle stroke upon the canvas after his hands finally stopped their trembling. Just a picture. A good picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone To Watch Over Me by Helen Forest
> 
> \---
> 
> Apologies for the short chapter. We took quite the break before writing this chapter. Also, this was simply the best way to split the scenes up. We hope you enjoy this!

Gently pulling a pin from her hair, Peggy released a heavy sigh. Her bunk groaned as well, in a worn-out, exasperated way. A pile of curls fell from their positions and wrapped around Peggy’s face and neck, a few beginning to uncurl.

The door squeaked and Peggy whipped around to find, much to her relief, Dr. Erskine hesitantly closing the squeaky door. “May I?”

Peggy nodded, shoulders drooping, “Yes, sir.”

“Can’t sleep?” The doctor took the invitation and made his way to Peggy’s bunk.

“I got the jitters, I guess.”

“Me too.”

“Can I ask you a question, sir?”

“Just one?” Dr. Erskine lowered himself onto the bunk across from Peggy and fiddled with his wire-frame glasses.

Taking in a large deep breath, Peggy straightened her too-relaxed posture and dropped her fiddling hands into her lap.

“Why did ya pick  _ me _ ?”

After contemplating for a patient moment, Dr. Erskine finally admitted, “I suppose zat  _ is _ the only question zat matters.” He motioned to the bottle in his hands. “Zis is from  _ Augsburg _ . My city.” The doctor let Peggy observe the bottle before continuing. “So many people forget zat ze first country ze Nazis invaded was zeir own. You know, after the last war the… my people struggled. Zey-Zey felt weak. Zey felt small. And then Hitler comes along with ze marching and ze big show and ze flags and the-and the…” 

Before beginning again, Dr. Erskine took a deep breath and fiddled with his glasses once more. “And he-he hears of me, my work, and he finds me. And he says,  _ ‘You _ .’ He says,  _ ‘You _ will make us strong.’ Vell, I am not interested. So he sends the head of  _ HYDRA _ , his research division. A  _ brilliant _ scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt. Now, Schmidt is a member of the inner circle and he is ambitious. He and Hitler share a passion for  _ occult power _ and  _ Teutonic myth _ .  _ Hitler _ uses his fantasies to inspire his followers. But for  _ Schmidt _ , it is not fantasy. For him, it is  _ real _ . He has become convinced zat zere is a great power hidden in ze Earth, left here by ze Gods, waiting to be seized by a  _ superior man _ . So when he hears about what my formula can do, he cannot resist.” There was a tense pause. “Schmidt must  _ become _ that  _ superior man _ .”

“Did it make him stronger?” Peggy’s eyebrows scrunched together as she resisted to urge to bite her lip.

“Yeah,” Dr. Erskine tilted his head a little in a sideways nod. “But, there were  _ other _ effects. The  _ serum _ vas not ready. But more important, the  _ person _ . Ze serum amplifies everything zat is inside. So,  _ good _ becomes  _ great _ .  _ Bad _ becomes  _ worse _ .” The doctor watched Peggy try to figure out how to react to the new information. Peggy, instead of staring down at her shoes like she so desperately wanted to do, looked Dr. Erskine in the eyes. There wasn’t any hint of insincerity. “Zis is why you were chosen. Because a  _ strong _ person, who has known power  _ all their life _ , will lose  _ respect _ for that power. But a  _ weak _ person knows the  _ value _ of strength,  _ and _ knows  _ compassion _ .”

“Thank you, sir.” Peggy allowed herself to smile. “I think.”

Smiling back to Peggy, the doctor motioned to the glasses he had laid out. “Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me _one_ _thing_.” Dr. Erskine filled the glasses as Peggy held them out. “Zat you will stay _who_ you are. Not a _perfect soldier_ , but,” After setting the bottle down the doctor took one of the glasses from Peggy. “A _good_ _person_.” He pointed to Peggy on each of the words for emphasis.

Peggy raised her glass. “To tomorrow.”

There was a satisfying clink as their glasses hit each other and Peggy smiled wider as she brought the drink to her lips-

“No! No! Wait! Wait!  _ Vat am I doing? _ No.” Dr. Erskine looked horrified as he pulled Peggy’s drink away from her, causing her to pout a little. “You have a procedure tomorrow.  _ No fluids _ .”

“All right. We’ll drink it after.”

"No!  _ I _ don’t have a procedure tomorrow.” He muttered to himself as he poured Peggy’s designated drink into his own glass, “Drink it after? Drink it now!

\---

_ HYDRA facility, Johann Schmidt’s lab _

The light flicked off as the doctor entered the room. “Gibt es etwas Besonderes, das Sie brauchen?” Johann Schmidt called out to him.

Doctor Zola walked farther into the darkened lab. “Ich verstehe, dass du ihn gefunden hast.” 

“Überzeugen Sie sich selbst.”

Dr. Zola stepped toward a table covered in papers. He squinted, and with the little light from the windows could make out that they were not papers, but photos. Several surveillance photos spread across the table in a manic way. He bent over the table more, and gently picked one of the many up. Doctor Abraham Erskine. He fidgeted with his glasses, uselessly adjusting their position on his face. All of the pictures. Every single one of them was Abraham Erskine.

“Sie missbilligen.”

Dr. Zola quickly set the photograph down. “Ich verstehe nur nicht, warum Sie sich Sorgen machen müssen,” he admitted confidently. “Ich kann mir nicht vorstellen, dass er Erfolg haben wird.” He nervously glanced up at Schmidt, who was hidden in shadows. Trying to back-peddle, he quickly added, “ _ Nochmal _ .” He looked back down at the hundreds of photos sourly.

“Sein Serum ist die einzige Verteidigung der Alliierten gegen dies Macht, die wir jetzt besitzen.” Schmidt thundered, a dark shadow in front of the white, mountain scene peaking through the windows. “Wenn wir es ihnen wegnehmen, ist unser Sieg gesichert.”

The doctor squinted back up at Schmidt. He leaned forward inquisitively, “Soll ich den Befehl geben?”

Schmidt slowly answered, “Es wurde gegeben.”

“Gut.”

Dr. Zola turned to leave the shadowy lab, fiddling with his glasses. “Doktor Zola!”

The lights flicked on and Zola turned back around. “Was denken Sie?”

An artist with a large canvas that Dr. Zola hadn’t noticed before was revealed in the light. Dr. Zola glanced at Schmidt then back to the artist. He squinted, assessing the large and very red painting.

“Ein Meisterstück.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the second half of this chapter, we used Google Translate to write in German and Norweigan. We are immensely sorry if anything was written terribly incorrect.


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